Room For One More?
by Blue-Songbirds
Summary: Clarity Winchester was the prodigy child. The perfect hunter. But now John's gone, and she has no other choice than to make it with her brothers. But she's a Winchester, and when did a Winchester ever have it easy?
1. Chapter 1

**Hi there! So this is the first chapter in my new fanfiction. I've done a couple others, but never a Supernatural one. This is set after John's death and before Cas was introduced. I hope you enjoy it!**

**Chapter One**

The man in a suit looked at me over his spectacles; his pen was poised on the clipboard.

"What is your name?"

"Clarity."

"Yes. But Clarity who?"

I smirked "Depends who you ask."

"This is one hundred percent confidential. Whatever you say won't leave this room."

"My name… my name is Clarity… Clarity Deanna Winchester."

"What does it mean?"

"Clarity. Clear or intelligent. Deanna. My grandmother's name. Winchester. The… the family name."

"Clarity. Can you tell me why you are here today?"

"You know why."

"I do. But I need you to say it."

My breath caught in my throat. "I can't…no."

"This is the first step to recovery. Just tell me, it's not a public announcement, just you and me." The man goaded. He placed his clipboard down on the glass table in between the two couches. Trying to gain trust, open book. Glass walls. Open space or sense of clearness, no secrets. The city buzzed on twenty floors down. People going on with their lives, blissfully unaware of the other side. Each on their own path, no notice of others.

"Clarity. Are you listening?"

"No." The man sighed.

"Tell me why you're here today."

"I can't do that."

"Please."

"No."

"It's not healthy, keeping it all these big emotions bottled up. You can only bury so much before you burst. Telling somebody will make it easier."

"Keeping things bottled up is what makes a Winchester."

"Clarity, stop avoiding the question."

Prickles came behind my eyes. No. I wouldn't cry, I wouldn't let them down like that.

"My brothers…my…" A hiccup racked my body

"What were their names?"

"Dean and… Dean and Sam Winchester."

"And what happened?"

"My brothers… my… My brothers are… They're gone."

"Gone?"

"Dead. Sam and Dean Winchester are dead."

* * *

"Clara bloody Winchester!"

"Dean-o!"

"Clara! Just get over here!"

Chuckling I stride across the car park to where Dean stands by the Impala with his arms crossed.

"Yeah?" I ask him smirking.

"Wipe that look off your face. Care to explain yourself young lady?"

"Explain what old man?"

"Twenty five is not old!"

"Course not. So what did I do this time?"

"You put your damn IPod jack in the Impala! What's that about? Explain! Or even better, get it out!"

"I don't own an IPod…"

We both look towards the door of last night's hotel room immediately. The door creak's open and a hesitant looking Sam walks out into the morning light. He smiles sheepishly as me and Dean look at each other. He's dead.

* * *

The fields rush past in a blur. Greens and browns and whites in one kaleidoscope. I lay my head on the window of the back seat, gently stroking the ancient army man still jammed in the door. Fade Into Black by Metallica cloaks the small space and I lift my head to observe Sam and Dean still bickering over the IPod jack in a sunny daze. I roll my eyes and tuck a slip of brown hair behind my ear.

"You all good back there Clara?" Sam asks, turning around. His voice jerks me out of my daze and I sit up.

"Yeah, why?"

"You're quiet for a start!" Jokes Dean. Smirking I lay my back against the door and stretch my legs on the back row.

"You two were doing enough talking for the three of us is all."

"We got us a resident comedian Sammy! Oy, did you find us a good job back in the motel?"

"5'9 isn't short, the two of you are just freakishly tall, but yeah."

"What was it?" Throws in Sam.

"Memphis Tennessee, thirty years back three teenagers went missing. There was no note or leads and the case was declared cold."

"Ok, so three kids do a runner. How's that our business?"

"That's what I thought when I went through the files. But, it wasn't the first time. I went further back and every thirty years three teenagers go missing. I traced it to the eighteen hundreds, and if the source was accurate three teenagers were burnt at the stake for practising witchcraft. So, if the timeline stays the same then three more will go missing this month"

Sam and Dean look at each other "It's a strong lead…" Says Sam. Dean nods his head.

"Okay, we can be there by tomorrow evening." And with that we revved off into the morning road.

* * *

True to his word, by Sunday night we were holed up in a less crappy than usual motel room, surrounded by endless resources. Sam, the lucky ass, got the laptop and was going through library records while Dean and I scanned dusty books and articles. Hours had passed since signing in, and before we registered anything the clock hit midnight.

"Huh? Crap. Look, this isn't working. I can't find anything that we didn't already know." Mutters Dean, rubbing bleary eyes and throwing himself onto the double bed.

"I second that." I groan, blinking my own eyes furiously I crawl up next to Dean.

"Well I, however, did manage to find a thing or two." Says Sam. Dean and I look at him expectantly.

"Yeah…?"

"Right, so basically Clara was right, it's every thirty years so the police haven't noticed the pattern. It's always three seventeen year olds but no specific gender, and there's an assumption they ran off. No leads, except, and applause is perfectly acceptable here, I found one man who made it back."

What? Why didn't I find that lead? Shocked, I sit up. "Who? I didn't see anything in the records…"

"Jeremy Anderson. Him, his friend and the friend's girlfriend went missing on their camping trip. April 17, 1993. They were gone for just under a week when Jeremy was found in the forest alone. He refused to speak, and nobody knows what happened to the other two."

"Where is he now?" Asks Dean, sitting up.

"He teaches drama at the high school."

"Oh, okay" I say "We can go talk to him tomorrow and-"

"-Not that simple."

"Never is." I groan, flopping back to my original position. Dean laughs and pats my hair.

"Jeremy got a court order. He can't be questioned about the event on the claim of post-traumatic stress."

"Son of a bitch… Now what?"

We sit in silence, each racking their own head. Corner him? Extortion? Ask somebody close to him? Get close to him? Or…

"I've got it!" I exclaim sitting up. The two of them look at me.

"Okay. So I enrol at the school and take his class, I can slip in questions and get the information. It would take almost no time and we'd know what we were dealing with. Simple!" Excited with my idea I look between the two of them expectantly. Their face are less than encouraging. "What's with the looks guys?"

"Clara… You're not the most… normal seventeen year old. And you haven't actually been to a high school before."

"What, yes I have! I went to the one in Alaska for a whole week!" I say.

Sam and Dean, you see, got to go to high school in every town John used to drag us through. However, John decided I was to be educated… differently. While Sam and Dean would learn algebra, parts of speech and how to hunt, I was taken on hunting trips with John from the age of five. I could write exorcisms from age seven, fire a gun from age five, and instead of the American Civil War I was taught demon uprisings and the bible

Granted, I would get the two of them to catch me up on everything school related, and by my sixteenth birthday I knew everything they could teach me. I was never as close with my brothers and they were with each other, and I'll be damned if I miss out on them anymore than I already have.

"That was a vampire training school, which we blew up." Says Dean, exasperated.

"So? I could go into dentistry with the things I learnt there…"

"Har har. Look, Clara, me and Sam aren't about to just throw you into the meat market with no experience and-"

"-then teach me." I interject.

"What?" Both of my brothers say in sync staring at me confused.

"Yeah! I could enrol on Tuesday and you could brief me Monday, full course of action. Then on Tuesday I can wear an earpiece and you could pass as substitute teachers. I could extract information from students and Jeremy Anderson, while the two of you ask any teacher who were there, and get in with Jeremy. " Sam and Dean look at each other

I can see them having a silent conversation, and I can feel a sting when I realise that I can't understand what they're saying. It's at that depressing moment when the fact that they don't truly know me is driven home in a monster truck. they love me and understand me and would take a bullet for me, but they don't understand the working of my head. Dean was the soldier, Sam was the smart one, and I was the prodigy. But without John, I'm just the tag along.

"Okay." Dean says, dragging me out of my self-pity party.

"Huh? What?" I can't help but ask.

"It's a good plan. You can fight, we'll arm you, and me and Sammy will be on the premises. We can make it work, but tomorrow is going to be full briefing. " Explains a grudging Dean. My face lights up and I jump up and down on the bed squealing. Oh my god! High school, actual high school!

"Thank you thank you thank you! Oh my god!" I shriek. The two of them laugh at my over excitement. I jump onto Dean and squeeze him with everything I've got before bounding over to Sam and repeating the action.

"Already regretting this…" Mutters Dean.

* * *

**And that's the end of the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed it, and I'll update it in the next few days or so.**

**Blue-Songbirds**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey! So the upload time sucked, but it'll pick up! Hope you like this chapter, I've got half the next one written so it'll be up in a couple days. **

Chapter 2

"Okay, so who are they?" I say, pointing to the large X's on the diagram.

"Those are boys." Dean says.

"So why are they marked red?" I reply, genuinely confused.

"Because boys are off limits. I don't want you near any of them unless we need information off them."

"What? Why are they off limits? Aren't they like girls, just with different…packages?" Sam sniggers from behind his computer screen, throwing a glare at him I return to Dean.

"I know how teenage boys think. And I know exactly what they're after, so there is no way I'm letting them near my baby sister."

"Dean-'Interjects Sam 'She can handle some more boys in her life. She's lived with us long enough, and she can throw a mean right hook…"

"Yes, thank you Sammy. Sorted." I say.

"No, not sorted. She's not going anywhere near them. I'm the oldest, so I have the final say."

Me and Sammy just roll our eyes and let it go. You have to pick your battles with Dean, and I figure what he doesn't know can't hurt him.

"Right then, I need to go shopping for supplies later."

"Awesome."

I collapsed on the bed, head pounding. Dean stood impatiently by the bedroom door.

* * *

"Run it again!"

"Bloody hell Dean! I know how to introduce myself in front of a class. You've been telling for over an hour."

"Do it again." He commands. Groaning, I look up at his face. Seeing no loopholes or budging room and knowing the stakes, I roll up off the bed.

"Hello. My name is Clara Win-Baker. Clara Baker and I'm 17 from Kansas."

"Wrong."

"Yes, I stumbled but I wont next time." I say annoyed.

"Well that, but you also don't say place of birth. A smart demon or shapeshifter can go through birth records and track you." He says, word for word from John's journal.

"Then what do I say? I'd look suspicious if I said nothing."

Dean rolls his eyes, picking up a piece of paper he begins scribbling. I can barely make out the words as he eventually drops the pen with a flourish and hands me the paper. On the page is a rough flow diagram.

"Dean… did you just make me a study diagram?" I look up at him with a smirk. There's the thing with Dean; he has never revised anything except John's journal in his life. I swear he has a photographic memory. He'll read an ancient scroll on a demi-god of some minor village once, but he could recite the entire thing at the drop of a hat.

"Yes. Now memorise it." He says defensively.

I look down at the page carefully, committing the words to memory. John used to make me memorise books on lore in training.

"Dean- how is she meant to remember a whole page of information in two minutes? Just let her

"Done." I announce putting the page on the table. Dean pokes his tongue out at Sammy, real mature.

"Okay then Hotshot, what's 4?" Asks Dean.  
"4, appear boring."  
"Subsection 7c?"  
"7c. Take seat furthest away from teacher, closest to the window."  
"8d?"  
"Avoid hallway in emergency due to mass hysteria and crowds taking you off course."  
"12a?"  
"Avoid entering the cafeteria alone at lunch. Grab some food and remove oneself to an outside table alone to listen to bugging devices."

"Man, I think she's got it!" Says Sammy, smiling at me proudly. I look at Dean, knowing that the decision rests in his hands. Since John left the power balance has obviously slipped towards him. Watching his body language carefully, I pick up on the small smile he wears.

"Yeah… I guess." Grinning, I hold my hand up in a fist, rolling his eyes he pulls me in for a barely awkward hug instead.

"Done good kiddo." He grumbles. Blushing in embarrassment, I tuck some hair behind my ear pulling back. We smile at each other, Sam chuckles.

"Winchester hug guys!" he exclaims. Ignoring the protests of Dean and I he enclosures us in a 6'5 blanket of muscle and flannel. I choke in oxygen as Dean elbows me in his attempt at freedom.

"Not cool Godzilla. Really not cool." He grumbles.

* * *

Twenty minutes later I'm in the back of the Impala watching Sam and Dean bitch over the music. Sammy, the brave soul, is fighting for some indie-rock college station whilst Dean is holding his hand over the cassette input, protecting his ACDC.

Watching them like this, it's easy to see the familiarity they have. From the set in Sam's forehead showing his stubborn streak, to the small smirk Dean hides, showing how he's only teasing and will probably relent in minute or two.  
As the track finishes, Dean subtly ejects the cassette and looks back at the road.

"Thanks man." Says Sam, quickly fiddling with the dials. Before long some song in French is blasting, making me smirk.

"You're doing it again." States Sam, turning around in the passenger seat.

"What?" I respond.

"That whole- I can read your entire life story and every passing thought just by how you wave." Inputs Dean.

I shrug, my face heating up "Sorry, habit." I mutter. The two share a look, one which I decidedly don't decipher.

"All good kiddo. We're here anyway." Dean announces, ever the topic changer.

The Impala smoothly slotted into a space outside the huge automatic doors. The engine puttered out and we unlocked out seatbelts. Sitting in silence we stared at the glass doors, watching people rushing around, all so involved in their own worlds.

"We should really go in." Sam said, breaking the silence.

"Detrimental to the mission." I inputted.

"Unavoidable." Says Dean.

Taking a deep breath I slid out of the car. Sam and Dean followed suit, but I managed to catch Deans muttered 'awesome' as we walked up. This oughta be fun.

* * *

"How can there be so many backpack designs? All they do is hold shit!"

"Sir. Could I request that you keep your language… civil? There are children in the vicinity." The snotty nosed sales assistant drawled at Dean, looking down his nose.

"Civil? Oh, I'll show you civil you-"

"Dean!" I yelled, grabbing the back of his leather jacket and dragging him from the store. Sam's apologies could be heard from the hallway between shops where I was currently restraining Dean.

"Sorry, sorry. But come on! He was a bloody pompous piece of- Hey!" I cut him off with a solid whack around the head.

"Grow up. Now we have to find another shop with sales on." I muttered, avoiding glares from passing mothers.

"Why were we even in that shop to start with? Everything was expensive as crap."

"It was your idea! You said that-"

"Blah blah. You could have told me it was a bad idea! How was I meant to know what the shop was like? You're the girl."

"Oh! Oh really? That's the best you've got? I don't have a penis so I must know how to shop? I don't know any more than you, and if you could just get over yourself for five minutes you would realise that!"

"Get over myself? What about you and this whole 'I'm the perfect hunter' thing you've got going on?"

"That's it! Isn't it? You're still pissed that John took me hunting without you and Sam!"

"His name is Dad, not John! Have some respect for the man for once in your life."

"Oy, you two! This isn't the time or place for whatever 'this' is! Quit it!" Interrupts a pissed off Sam, marching over quickly. Dean and I glare at each other, panting with anger, before I turned heel and marched away. Respect? Oh, I know places to shove that respect, starting with is arse.

* * *

"Really Dean? Was all that necessary? You've got to remember she's only seventeen." Sam groaned, watching Clara's retreating back. Dean made a move to follow her, but Sam grabbed him quickly.

"Give her some time to cool off; she won't be stupid enough to leave the mall. Let's just get the rest of the list then we get her." Sam said, taking charge. He started into a row of stationary shops and Dean reluctantly followed. Looking back at his sisters hunched shoulders he couldn't stop the twist of guilt settling into his stomach.

* * *

How dare he make accusations like that! What did he think John and I did on all those hunting trips? Window shopped and talked about our feeling over hot chocolate? Dean had no damn idea how much I had wanted to swap places with him or Sammy, just for a day. To be the one going to school, making friends, being anything but anonymous.  
The anonymity was the worst. The harsh words and intense trainings I could take. The pressure of every single move and decision I made being judges and assessed was manageable. Even the long silent car trips between towns, and watching Dean scowl at me on the rare occasion I was praised when we returned was okay.  
But nobody knowing who you were? Not caring if you died to protect them? That was hard. I learnt with John that nobody really cared who you were, or what you say in the end and that-

"Oof. Are you okay? Crap, I'm so sorry! Crap, crap, how many fingers am I holding up? Are you dizzy? Who's the president? What's your made? Oh, there's blood, holy crap!"

"Huh? What-" I mumbled. Why am I on the floor? Gingerly I touched my head, fingers coming away sticky. Blinking the edges of my sight clear, I looked up into the warmest brown eyes I'd ever seen.

**And yeah! That's all I've got for today, tell me what you think.  
Blue-Songbirds**


End file.
